


Side Effects

by JuweWright



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: April Fools' Day, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuweWright/pseuds/JuweWright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred and George have prepared a very special April Fools' surprise for Hermione...</p><p>Light hearted one shot that was supposed to be much shorter and was written for the April Fools' prompt over in the FB group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

> This is a light hearted one shot that was supposed to be much shorter and was written for the April Fools' prompt over in the FB group.
> 
> I don't own any of the characters nor any part of this world, I just like to play in it. Everything belongs to the Queen. No money-making here, just entertaining people.
> 
> Hope you like it!

30th of March

“Okay. I am still not convinced that this is going to work all the way through, but we'll give it a go.”

“To the mischief.”

George high-fived his brother with a grin.

The twin brothers were more than prepared for the best day of the year. Well, the best day apart from their birthday... and Christmas... or Umbridge Remembrance Day which Seamus had come up with and which had led to a pretty awesome increase in fireworks sales... and of course the day that Ginny had come up with the brilliant idea to use Percy as the guinea pig for the Hatred Honeys (and have a spy glass smuggled into his office first). The box of chocolates looked like something that lovers would give each other for Valentine's day but the pralines contained no fire whiskey but an assortment of fabulous new potions that either let furuncles grow on your nose or made you sick or turned your ears yellow for a day. Fred was not absolutely sure that the Hatred Honeys should be made readily available to the public, as he imagined they would mainly be used by witches who wanted to get rid of unpopular suitors, but he had still agreed on doing the trial run. It had also been Ginny's idea to send the parcel disguised as fan mail from a blonde beauty – the picture she had enclosed in the letter had reminded the twins of Fleur Delacour but they had not commented on it. The result had been both entertaining and uplifting. Nothing was better than Percy with green boils on his forehead.

Since the twins had been very little, April Fools had been one of their favourite days and it had only become better with time. The tradition included little “presents” to all their family, but this year they had mutually agreed that it would be foolish indeed not to include some of their friends as well. After all – Harry and Hermione were almost family as they always spent some of their holidays in the burrow and would probably one day marry a Weasley.

Coming up with something for Harry had been easy as pie. Although the boy had more than once defeated Voldemort, he could be incredibly thick and thus was an easy target for any kind of trick played on him. Hermione was difficult, though. The girl was indeed a clever little witch and she would be prepared for the worst. Fred and George had spent days drawing up plans and scrapping them again. It had not been until this morning, that the solution to their problem had dawned on George.

:::

Earlier this day.

“You are kidding!”

Fred stared at his brother in utter disbelief.

“You must be kidding!”

“Brother mine, you have known me for so many years. Dost though really think that I am able to tell a lie?”

“Brother mine, I have known you for enough years to know that if anyone knows how to tell a lie, it is you. The only one who might be better at this particular thing than you is my very own self.”

“Okay, you're right. But this is the truth and nothing but the truth and I believe it's an excellent idea.”

“You said it was an excellent idea to feed Puking Pastilles to the garden gnomes...”

“That was Ginny's idea.”

“Perhaps we should have asked Ginny about...”

“Don't think it would have worked. Ginny and Hermione talk an awful lot...”

“Whom are you telling...”

George seemed to become very interested but Fred just kept talking. This was not the moment to discuss the brief episode between Hermione and him. That was in the past and if Ron ever found out, he'd probably try to kill his older brother – and, if things went as usual, get himself killed in the process.

“Okay, so you are serious about this?”

“Yes I am.”

“The Ferret and Hermione?”

“Aye.”

“She'll kill you.”

“She won't, I'm your brother... and Ron's.”

“So it's a two-way-thing?”

“Yap... we're playing a joke on both our most beloved Muggle born and our most detestet pure blood.”

“All right.”

“All right?”

“I'm in. Let's do it!”

:::

1st of April

Hermione woke up with a start when an owl banged against her window. Yes, banged. It did not gracefully land on the window sill and then click its beak against the glass as civilized owls do, but it just crashed right against the window. Thus, when Hermione finally had realized she was lying in her bed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the animal had landed on the roof about five meters below herbedroom which could be accessed from one of the hallways – a practice that was forbidden as none of the teachers were too keen on cleaning up after some lunatic had managed to fall down from said roof and end up dead and broken in the courtyard. To stress the fact that nobody was allowed on the roof, Minerva McGonagall had closed the window that looked out on it with a triple closing charm. As with most forbidden things, it had become a challenge to break the spell but none of the students had managed. But you weren't the cleverest witch of your age, if you could not break a triple closing charm. It helped a lot if you had overheard your head of house muttering it under her breath, of course.

It was still quite early in the morning, so the Common Room was empty and unusually tidy. Hermione frowned. House elfs. But at least they had picked up the woolly hats she had made for them.

She opened the window with a quick wave of her wand and pulled a chair to the window, so she could lean out without actually being on the roof – you did not have to break the rules where you could bend them.

The owl looked a bit queasy on its feet but apart from that it looked all right. No wings broken, no permanent damage.

“You are a stupid bird”, said Hermione quietly, whilst reaching out for it and carefully cupping her hands around it. It was almost as small as Pigwidgeon. The small parcel that was tied to its foot was adressed in a tiny scrawl that looked somewhat familiar but did not quite ring a bell.

“Why did you not just fly down to the Great Hall with all the others and throw this into my porridge if you wanted to be stupid?”, Hermione asked untying the string that fixed the parcel to the owl's foot. It gave off a hoot and flew off immediately.

“Queer little thing”, Hermione murmured and closed the window again, making sure she resealed it with all three spells, before sitting down in an armchair in front of the fire place to open the parcel. It contained a book. A tiny volume which smelled wonderful of new leather and ink. The binding didn't give anything away, so she opened it and read the title.

“The small book about Great Wizardry – A collection of almost extinct spells that should not be forgotten”

This sounded exciting. She leafed through the first chapter and almost started jumping up and down on her seat. She had never heard of any of these spells before, but some of them were marvellous. Of course most of them were pretty elaborate advanced magic, but she was pretty sure she would be able to handle them with a bit of practice.

Sometimes the sheer slowness of most of her fellow students annoyed the hell out of her. She had been so happy when she had got her Hogwarts letter because that meant that finally there would be people around her who were as smart as herself. But it had turned out that young witches and wizards were just as dumb as the rest of the world. There were exceptions, though they were few. She had to admit that that Slytherin git Draco Malfoy was a real competition in some subjects. He was better in potions than her and he probably was her equal in DADA even though she had attended the secret meetings of Dubledore's Army and he had not. He was also the only other student she knew who knew anything about History of Magic. He did not listen to Professor Binns, but she could not blame him for that. Binns' style of teaching was horribly dull after all. But she had seen Draco read books about history and she knew his grades – mainly because he had boasted of them so loudly that he had not only entertained Pansy and the whole Slytherin table with it but all of the Great Hall.

Hermione frowned. Why did the only other smart person in this school have to be the most despicable one?

She turned another page and suddenly noticed a small note that was stuck between two pages. She pulled it out. It was filled with the same tiny scrawl that her name had been written in.

_For Hermione Granger. From a friend who knows she will be delighted to read this volume. Meet me at five in the corridor on the fifth floor in front of the picture of the drunk monks._

:::

In another Common Room, a blonde boy who looked even paler than usual from lack of sleep, was pacing up and down up and down. Above him, a ghost was swinging from a chandelier and whispering. As Peeves normal volume was about five times as loud, it was more difficult to ignore him, when he was almost quiet.

“Little Malfoy cannot sleep, even if he's counting sheep. Little Malfoy is distressed, little Malfoy is obsessed.”

Obsessed. Yes he was obsessed. Obsessed with proving himself worthy of the honour he had been given and proving himself more capable than his father. He needed to find a way to make this work. He needed to...

Peeves threw something down onto the floor in front of Draco's pacing feet and vanished cackling through the ceiling. Draco just hoped the creature would bump into the Bloody Baron. Since the Baron had lost a game of cards against Sir Nicholas he had been more intimidating than ever and it was more than due time for him to let off some steam by teaching Peeves a lesson.

Draco bent down to look at the parcel. He expected it to be some new kind of dung bomb that Peeves had probably stolen from one of the first years. Orders at “Weasley Wizard Weezes” were strictly forbidden but although Filch made a good effort to search all the owls, he could not confiscate every single meatpie that got sent to the pupils by “Auntie Fanny” to cut it open and see if it contained Puking Pastilles or Demon Drops - which looked like lemon drops but had a liquid center that was extra-hot and made you grow little horns on your forehead, an effect that had been demonstrated by none other than Harry Potter who had been sent a parcel by some “admirer” a couple of weeks ago. Since then, Demon Drops had become very popular among Hogwarts students. Draco, being a prefect and not being an idiot, knew most of the ways the Weasley's used to smuggle their stuff into the castle. But he had to admit that, although the whole family was a disgrace to the Wizarding society, he had a soft spot for Fred and George – and, weirdly, for Ginny who seemed to be almost as reckless and cunning as her two older brothers – and therefore had not told Filch – whom he definitely did not have a soft spot for – about any of them.

He ripped the paper off the parcel whilst considering the fact that he only really hated Ronald Weasley. The main reason was, that he was Harry Potter's best friend – no, that was only the second reason. The main reason was, that he was dumb as a doornail but at the same time happened to be the boy that Hermione Granger cared about. How could anyone as smart as that damned Mudblood fall for someone as stupid as Ron Weasley? It just escaped him. But it was too obvious not to notice how hurt the girl looked when she saw Ron sucking the breath out of Lavender Brown. That girl was a much more suitable match for the Weasle although Draco felt bad about the children they would have. Either they would be too stupid to walk straight or they would outwit their parents before they left primary school.

A small box appeared underneath the wrapping. It was made of some blue-ish leather that looked a lot like real dragon hide which meant it was incredibly expensive. Draco sighed. Whomever Peeves had stolen this from would not be happy if they discovered it was gone. He thought about putting a note up on the notice board, but curiosity won. The thing had been wrapped as if it was supposed to be a present. Perhaps he could find out, whom it was intended for if he looked inside?

He pressed the two small buttons at the sides of the lid and it snapped open revealing a tiny golden device on a chain. Draco stared at it for a second before his brain realized what he was looking at. It was a Charm Deflector. A proper one. He knew that people – like Mundungus Fletcher and his ilk – sold fake Charm Deflectors and amulets in Diagon Alley, but he had lived in Malfoy Manor among old magical objects for long enough to know how a proper Charm Deflector looked. These things were pretty rare. It was said that the art of creating them had died with one of the last Deflector makers. Even the Ministry did not own any Charm Deflectors as far as Lucius had told his family. The Malfoy family owned a broken Deflector that was kept in one of the display cases in the library in the west wing. But this one – Draco still stared at it in disbelief – was whole and working. A small piece of paper lay underneath it and Draco carefully lifted the Deflector up to take it out and unfold it.

_To Draco Malfoy who will know the worth of this gift. I hope you can find the time to meet me in the corridor on the fourth floorin front of the picture with the drunk monks at five._

:::

Fred and George were preparing for the big show. George had bewitched a sneakoscope so they could actually spy into every corner of Hogwarts or follow people around. The trick behind it was a small floating eye with wings which looked a little bit like a baby-snitch.

“This is horrendously illegal”, Fred had said when his brother had first shown it to him. “We can't sell this to anyone. But it's genious. We could lend it to the Order if they ask nicely.”

“It can probably be detected by the usual protective charms”, George had answered. “We would have to ask Snape to sneak it into his meetings with the Death Eaters and he would only ask what we need it for as he is already there spying.”

“Spying for whom though?”

“Yeah. But you see the problem.”

So the sneakoscope with the eye-camera had stayed their secret and had not been used until this very day. Now both twins were standing behind the counter at “Weasley Wizard Weezes” and watched the corridor in front of the drunk months. The good thing was that there was a strategically ideal armour suit right opposite the painting and the eye had flown into the visor and was hidden from view.

“I still can't believe, Draco did not recognize the Charm Deflector as a fake.”

“Well you put about a dozen spells on it to make it look decent and you are much better than me in the design sector.”

“You wanted to sell dungbombs in brown packages, brother. It's not easy to be better than you in the design sector.”

“Okay, here we go. Let the show begin. Hermione's coming.”

“You know this is the meanest thing I have ever done.”

“Your scruples concerning your ex-girlfriend are cute but unhelpful, Fred." 

“She is not my ex-girldfriend.”

“Fine. Affair.” 

“It was not an affair.”

“Well. Snogging-in-dark-corners-all-over-the-school-and-in-our-attic-thing sounds kind of nasty.”

Freds elbow found his brother's ribs without him having to spare a glance to the side.

“There's Malfoy.”

“Impossible to mistake that swagger.”

“You sound impressed.”

“Nothing says 'Look what a man I am!' like that arrogant Malfoy swagger. His dad does it, too. It's a family heirloom.”

:::

Hermione stopped in her stride when she saw who was coming towards her. This must be a misunderstanding. Malfoy was probably on his way somewhere else and this was just a chance meeting. There was nothing deliberate about them both being in a corridor alone at five in the afternoon after classes had finished and everyone else was probably outside enjoying the first warm rays of spring sun.

Draco's brows arched and a frown appeared on his forehead. He stopped about two steps away from her. Too far away to smell the usual waft of grass and sandalwood that accompanied him and which she had noticed more often than she liked to admit during their Potions lessons. But it was near enough to see his sneer.

“Okay, Granger, what is this? Is this some kind of a joke?”

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and pushed her chin forward.

“What are you talking about, Malfoy?”

Her voice was as cold as she had intended it to be. He would not sense any of her disappointment. He probably had set her up to make fun of her, but she would not let him triumph.

Draco rummaged around his pockets for a second and then pulled out a note.

“I am talking about this.”

As she could not see what he was waving about with, she stepped a bit closer. That was a mistake. She knew it the moment she caught his scent in her nostrils. Something in her brain crashed and spun out of its usual orbit. She had intended to look at the piece of paper but instead her eyes were caught by his. She had never before noticed how silver-grey Draco's eyes were. No human being really had grey eyes. Usually what people called grey was some kind of muddy blue, but Draco's eyes really were grey. Grey as the rain on an autumn day.

She heard him take a sharp breath, then saw him turn his head. Slowly, slowly, as if it was a physical effort to do so.

“Damned”, he murmured.

She finally managed to look down at the paper. The same tiny writing. The same hand.

“Someone set us up”, she stated, annoyed that her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Someone has a strange sense of humour then.”

She nodded and noticed how Draco almost recoiled.

“Damned”, he said again.

“What?”, she asked defiantly.

He shook his head as if to try and clear it, then shrugged.

“It's just... your smell.”

“Do I smell of Mudblood or what is it you want to flatter me with?”

More head shaking. He seemed seriously distressed. It was kind of cute how he stood there and stared at his hands as if they were something he had never seen before.

“You... you smell nice”, he finally admitted.

Hermione thought that usually she would have had a very cheeky answer to this and an answer than would have had him crawl on all fours looking for the broken pieces of his dignity, but for some reason she was not in a fighting mood right now. And he had not said anything bad. He had just... said the same thing she had been thinking.

“Thanks, dito”, she managed finally.

“What?” 

“You smell nice, too. It's not a recent discovery for me though, but I never saw any reason to let you know there were things that I found pleasant about your persona.”

He stared at her.

“Go ahead?”

“What?”

“You said 'things', plural. The smell is just one thing." 

“You want me to say what I like about you? This is ridiculous.”

“Someone set us up. They probably expected us to have a catfight. I am not willing to give them what they want so we better play our own game.” 

“You first, then.”

“I didn't say there was anything else I liked about you, Granger.”

“But there is.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You just blushed.”

“Damned. That pale skin is a curse. Okay then. I like your hair. Especially when it's all bushy and unruly. And I think you are an extraordinary talented witch.”

“Mudblood.” 

“Doesn't matter. You're ten times smarter than any pure blood I know and that's the truth.”

For half a minute, Hermione did not know what to answer, then she smiled.

“Okay, my turn. I think you are much smarter than you give away most of the time. And I... I like your hands.”

:::

“Good God this is better than any Muggle soap opera”, George sighed in front of the sneakoscope.

Fred had buried his head in his hands and was laughing so hard the counter was rocking.

“They think someone set them up to get a good duel to watch. What do you think will happen if they find out what we really did?”

George looked at his watch and grinned.

They have 15 minutes left. I bet there's gonna be a kiss.”

“Not betting against you, this is progressing quickly enough.

:::

Hermione did not elaborate on the hands. She could have held a presentation on how long narrow fingers and well-kept nails as well as soft skin were something inherently attractive in a man and how she had hated Victor's pranks and how she had liked when Fred's fingertips touched her lips ever so lightly during that brief interlude that would forever stay their secret. But she didn't. Instead, she did something that was just so unlike the Hermione she knew that a voice in the back of her head started screaming. She took Draco's hand – the one that was still holding the note – lifted it slightly and let her fingertips trace the shape of the bones underneath the white skin.

She had expected him to pull his hand away, but he didn't. He just watched her with a curious expression on his face.

Then, suddenly, his fingers closed around hers, pulled her hand down and closer. She almost fell into his arms.

:::

Half an hour later.

Fred and George stared at each other.

“How could this go so incredibly wrong?”

“You're asking _me_? I should be asking you! You were the one who made the potion! It should have worn off after that first kiss, shoudn't it?”

“You were the one who dabbed it onto the book and the Deflector. By the way we should ask Mundungus where he got that replica from. If it fooled Malfoy there's some serious potential there.”

“You are trying to deviate, George! This is a catastrophe!”

“Do I detect old feelings welling up?” 

“This has nothing to do with old feelings. Hermione and Malfoy? This is just wrong! We made a horrible mistake!”

“Unless...”

“Unless what?” 

“It said in the description that if there were hidden feelings, the potion might unleash them and not wear off after the time indicated.” 

“Hidden feelings?” 

“Fred, you sound like a strangled frog.”

“Are you suggesting that there are _hidden feelings_ between Hermione and Malfoy the git?”

“Well... they are still snogging and it's already six. The potion should have worn off at half past five. I guess I either really miscalculated the ingredients – and you know I never miscalculate anything – or...”

“I might need to throw up.”

“Please leave the shop then. The customers might not like it much if you are retching all over the counter.”

“What do you suggest now?" 

“I suggest we put away this nice little sneakoscope we altered so we could spy on anyone anywhere and get going. Mum told me she'd make shepherd's pie today.”

“George, we caused a mess!”

“And there's nothing whatsoever we can do about it right now so we can as well have dinner.”

:::

Hermione and Draco seperated gasping for breath. The girl's hair was messy because Draco had buried his hands in it and the Slytherin boy's shirt was not tucked into his trousers properly any more because she had grasped at his back with both hands.

For a couple of seconds none of them said a word. Then they spoke both at once.

“Well...”

“I think...”

“You first!”

Silence again whilst both of them shuffled their feet.

Then Draco burst out: 

“You did not pull away.”

“Neither did you.”

Silence.

“Someone definitely played a trick on us here.” 

“I agree.”

“So... how do we handle this?”

“We... could wait until tomorrow. If someone slipped us a love potion, it should have worn off by then.”

“I don't feel as if someone slipped me a love potion.”

“Neither do I, but that's the whole point behind it, isn't it?”

“You notice Amortentia, it makes your head go fuzzy.”

“My head _feels_ fuzzy, Granger. Although I would not use that word to describe some small voice shouting at me I should go back to kissing you immediately.”

Silence again. Suddenly, Draco looked up and grinned.

“You know what? Screw it!”, he said, covered the distance between them with a stride and pulled Hermione into another kiss. This time, they did not force it, did not suck at each others lips as if there was no tomorrow. This time was slower, nicer and more controlled.

Hermione thought that it was a shame that this probably was only the result of some horrible joke involving love potion. Somehow this felt so right. They seemed to fit together. Victor had always been too tall and she had had to stand on her toes to lean in. Ron – whom she had kissed a million times in her dreams but never in reality – was tall as well and he seemed to salivate a lot from what she had observed when watching him and Lavender. And Fred was too swift, to quick, to impatient. Draco's lips were dry and warm and slightly rough, but their touch was gentle. When they stood in front of each other she had only to tilt her head back very slightly to meet his lips.

“Considering the fact that we are probably both intoxicated...”, she breathed into his ear. “We could go further and it would be no harm done.”

Draco pulled back for a second and stared at her with disbelief.

“Are you telling me...?”

She nodded.

“Aaaaahaaa!”

They jumped apart with a shriek. Peeves the poltergeist had appeared out of nowhere and seemed to be very excited indeed to find them snogging in a deserted corridor.

“Malfoy and his Mudblood, Malfoy and his Mudblood”, he howled. “What will Malfoy's father say when he hears about this? I bet he will not be amused, will he?”

Malfoy fumbled for his wand, his face suddenly pale.

“Don't you dare tell my father...”, he shouted.

Hermione put her hand on his arm and pushed it down.

“Peeves. Go away!”, she said calmly.

The ghost followed suit, still singing his song about “Malfoy and his Mudblood” and inventing new lines on the go.

Draco pouted.

“Damned”, he said.

“Don't worry”, Hermione laughed. “Nobody's gonna believe him anyway.”

Draco considered this for a second and came to the conclusion that she was right.

“So...”, he grinned brushing her hair back out of her face with his hands, “... where did we stop?”

The End


End file.
